


The Art of Getting Attached

by Minos_forlorn



Series: Though we grit our teeth [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, annie thinking about feelings, flicking a switch between annie and magath's pov, magath realising he has feelings, peak wlw culture is nearly dying before you have the guts to confess, pieck realising she caught feelings and going aw fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minos_forlorn/pseuds/Minos_forlorn
Summary: "She recalls what her father taught her when she was young enough to accept it as truth: the world is cruel. It will aim to hurt you. Don’t get attached and you won’t get hurt."Pieck and Annie getting captured & dealing with the aftermath.
Relationships: Pieck Finger/Annie Leonhart
Series: Though we grit our teeth [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067876
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The Art of Getting Attached

**Author's Note:**

> “Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”   
> \- the Iliad 
> 
> This is set in an AU where RBA chose to return to Marley 2 years into the Paradis mission.
> 
> This one has been sitting in the limbo of my Word file for some time. Big thanks to meikuree, who read it first and provided some lovely commentary that gave me enough confidence to post the fic here.

The moment she opens her eyes, not that it makes too much of a difference, Annie feels her breath hitch again. Her fingers, or what’s left of them, scrape against the stone in an attempt to push herself up. A hand on her cheek makes her flinch, but the touch is gentle, barely there. And then there’s Pieck’s voice, softer still.

“Annie, please stop. Just hold still.”

She ignores that, naturally. She almost manages to sit up before the pain flares up and Pieck moves to catch her with one arm, letting her lean against her.

“Annie-”

Her own voice is painfully raw when she forces the words out. “Can’t let them win.”

“That’s why you can’t just run out of steam like that.”

She frowns, but Pieck has a point. She barely has the strength to regenerate anymore. The cuts and bruises heal up no problem, but now they’ve resorted to breaking bones and severing limbs, testing the limits of titan powers. Those take more effort and time, more so for Pieck. Annie hasn’t given up, though. 

“What are we supposed to do then?”

“Wait. Endure. Someone will come.”

Bullshit. They’ve been in this small dark cell for what, a week now? Probably longer. The idea of anyone coming to their rescue is beyond ridiculous. “Forget it. We want out, we have to act.” She tries again to get up, but nearly ends up on the concrete face-first. She steadies herself with her hands and tries to breathe, the strain nearly making her cry out. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hears her father’s voice:  _ Again. _

“Stop wasting energy.” She feels Pieck’s cold hand on her back. “Heal up just enough to be stable and save the rest.”

She huffs at that. As though they’re not at their limits. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to keep going? You want to give up now?”

“That hasn’t changed. But we need to be strategic here.”

“They’ll kill us.”

Pieck lets out a long breath, as though deciding on her words. “Possibly,” is all she says in the end. And while Annie has no doubt there’s more to the apparent resignation than meets the eye, whatever plan Pieck has formulated in that brilliant mind of hers won’t do them any good if their captors grow tired of their stubbornness when they’re entirely out of strength and at their mercy. They haven’t been given any water today. They’re running out of time. But they can’t let them know that.

“I have to show them they can’t break me,” she says in a low voice. 

As if on cue, the door opens and two men walk in. Only two this time. Must finally be feeling brave enough, the damn rats. They ask the same questions as always, again in their own language. Annie and Pieck both understand the words, though they did try playing dumb at first. Couldn’t fool them. They haven’t talked. Well, Pieck hasn’t. Annie has been spitting various colourful things in their faces, none of which they wanted to hear. She ignores them this time as she stares at her hands, fingers trying to dig into the solid ground. She doesn’t know which of them it will be today, doesn’t really care at this point. It was her the last couple of times and she’s really at her limits, but the thought of having to listen to any more screaming while she sits utterly useless fills her with even more dread. It’s hopeless either way. Her stomach is in a knot. There’s that childhood feeling again of just wanting to go home. How utterly unwarranted.

Pieck gives her shoulder alight squeeze, then shifts slightly to face them and puts on the most sardonically honey-glazed voice she can manage. “Perhaps, if you’d let us have some fresh air, then we could-”

Annie doesn’t get to finish figuring out what she’s up to and Pieck doesn’t get to finish the sentence. The way the man grabs and slams her into the wall hard enough to hear a crack sets something primal off in Annie. She finds the strength somewhere to launch herself at the other one. He’s caught off guard and it doesn’t matter one bit that she’s unarmed; she knows just fine how to tear a man’s throat out. It’s enough for the other guy to drop Pieck and focus on her. She looks up and squints at the light.  _ Idiots left the door open. _ She wants to scream, to run, she manages to open her mouth before getting tackled to the ground. She makes an attempt to fight, fingernails make for an excellent weapon if need be, but she’s out of strength. Her wrist and then her face explode in pain, she tastes iron, sees nothing more, but feels the man’s grip on her loosen, faintly hears him let out an awful choking noise.

When she first comes to afterwards, all she can process is the strong wind stinging her face. She’s moving, very fast so, maybe falling. There’s a horrible taste of blood in her mouth, still. She moves her head sideways in an attempt to spit it out and take a proper breath. She tries to see, but the sun blinds her eyes. She should be glad for it, but just isn’t. It’s only making her head spin more. It clicks finally that the pressure on her chest is the Cart titan’s teeth, probably trying to hold her gently as it runs, but everything hurts. She catches a blurry glimpse of Pieck at its nape calling out her name before it’s all gone again.

* * *

It’s a phone call that causes Theo Magath to stumble around his apartment at three in the morning, muttering swears under his breath. It has been an exhausting couple of days and he hasn’t even been home for more than six hours before life decides to throw more action his way. “What is it?” he asks, thinking it had better be a damn invasion. 

“Sir, Cart titan spotted at eastern entrance.”

It instantly shocks him awake and he nearly drops the receiver. He feels that he should first ask if it even is Pieck or someone else. The soldier continues before he can get the words out.

“It’s got Leonhart with it.” 

He relates the information so offhandedly, simply doing his job. As Theo himself ought to be. So he pulls himself together and speaks in a similar tone, as if he didn’t spend the past two weeks in a delirium of rage and anxiety. “What’s their condition?”

There is a bit of silence that seems to stretch forever as the soldier passes the question on to someone else and listens. Finally, he says, “Both in rough shape, alive, but-” He pauses. “Right. They’re bringing them in now, but they’ll need your orders on further actions.”

He’s already scrambling into a pair of trousers and grabbing his coat. “Keep them alive,” he barks into the receiver before slamming it down and heading out the door. 

* * *

Annie wanted to die, once. Or rather, she wanted not to have been born at all.

She recalls what her father taught her when she was young enough to accept it as truth: the world is cruel. It will aim to hurt you. Don’t get attached and you won’t get hurt. 

She broke his leg once during training. He told her he was proud. She felt so bad. She felt bad for Marcel too, and Reiner. She couldn’t help it. She began to suspect, as she grew older, that getting attached is a human trait. Or something along that line. Feeling compassion. Love, perhaps. So is grief. It’s the price you pay for having loved. It’s inescapable. 

She thought herself heartless until only a few years ago, but looking back, it’s always been a ruse. A mantra, a way to try and protect herself. It’s something necessary for a soldier, lest you drive yourself mad. You can make it simple for your brain and soul, separate people into neat little groups of allies and enemies. Or simpler still, treat the entire world as your enemy. She rolled with that for a while. But if she was truly heartless, she wouldn’t have argued with Reiner to return to Marley. She wouldn’t have willed herself to live through all the battles, nor would she have attacked her captor in one last act of desperation. She would have simply let herself be killed, and still couldn’t bring herself to care. But it wasn’t herself that she cared about. She has no doubt her father only wished to protect her, but it wasn’t apathy that kept her going all these years.

She makes an attempt to open her eyes. One is swelled shut. The other is met with a blinding light.

She recalls a memory she repressed long ago. It sneaks up on her from who knows where, a small insignificant moment, imprinted on her mind. It was the only time she interacted with the previous Female titan holder, minutes before the ceremony. The woman must have noticed her trembling, as hard as she tried to hide it, and placed a hand on her shoulder, the lightest of touches. There was something so chilling about the blankness in her gaze, the stoicism in her voice. “Don’t think about it,” is all she told her before they took her up to the platform. 

And here she is, a decade later, thinking about it.

Is that all there is? Hardening your heart, distancing yourself, refusing to acknowledge anything, dying. And for what? To become a weapon without a hint of humanity to be used to inflict more pain? She wonders what kind of person it would take, to be able to do that. Is there even such a person?

Everything is hazy. Way too bright. She’s only able to make out shapes. It’s enough to will her arm to move, to make her fist connect with flesh.

* * *

_ They managed to find Galliard in the wreckage, who had taken a heavy blow from the initial blast trying to protect the others, but the Armor had kept him safe at least. As for the Female and Cart, they found the remains of the titans but not the bodies of their shifters. The hostage letter that arrived a few days later confirmed their suspicions. Calvi sat through the report with an utterly nonchalant expression, dragging a hand over his face. He’d barely read half of the letter before declaring the ransom to be ludicrously high, and Theo was inclined to agree. There was no doubt the hostages would be killed either way, if they hadn’t been already. There would be no bargaining, but he still argued they try and get them back by force. The general proceeded then to make a point that however big a reputation Marley had for its titans, it most certainly did not rely on them for its success. Theo was told to do as he wanted with his Warriors. Marley would continue to advance with or without them.  _

Theo shakes his head to clear his mind. His watch reads seven in the morning. Perhaps he could convince the hospital staff to brew some more coffee. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s finding it difficult to keep himself awake. He finds Udo and Zofia slumped in some chairs, dark bags under their eyes. Their faces are hard to read, but Udo’s leg bouncing speaks for itself. Theo wanted them both on standby just in case things took the turn for the worst. He lets them know they can head back home and they nod dutifully, but he takes notice of the immense relief reflected on their faces. 

He steps outside to smoke and catches sight of himself in a window. He’s still wearing his night shirt, never got the chance the change out of it. A real disgrace of a commander. He’s been here all night, talking to the medics, trying to find the right course of action. He argued against just replacing the Warriors as though they’re a pair of used batteries, pointing out that Marley needs experienced shifters in these rough times, which isn’t untrue. They were already down two, and with the war still ongoing, there’s no time to train up new ones. He was told that the regenerative abilities weren’t kicking in, and still he told them to wait. He’s well aware his reasons weren’t purely military. He cares for these kids, there’s not much use in denying it to himself at this point.

Assuming they hadn’t been killed, he’d figured there would be torture involved. He thought he’d be braced for the outcome, but while listening to the medical reports, he felt his cold heart clench. All the mutilations and blood loss aside, Annie needed to have several bones rebroken so they could heal correctly. Evidently, she’d very adamantly kept on regenerating, with too much haste, no opportunity or time for tact, just a desperation to escape. A lot of internal trauma besides broken bones. They were probably mainly using up their energy to try and mend that. They’re finally healing now, though excruciatingly slowly, due to severe exhaustion and dehydration. It's such a simple yet effective reminder of their humanity - titan shifters or not, no human can survive without water. They figured that was the reason Pieck went into shock shortly after they got her out of the titan, combined with the effort it took to shift and travel all the way here. Theo still has no idea how she was able to transform in the first place, though he has a few theories. 

He’s allowing himself to take a break now that he’s been told the two Warriors are stable and recovering. He knows there will be talk of mental evaluations later and there’s not much he’ll be able to do in regards to that. One step at a time. He ought to go home, at the very least to dress properly. The kids have probably let the others know he won’t be present at training today. But he wants to stay, at least until he can speak with Pieck and Annie. He feels it’s his responsibility. But more than that, he quietly admits to himself that he hates to let them out of his sight right now. He takes the opportunity to give their parents a call, letting them know they’re in good hands and that they’ll be home in a couple of days. Mr. Leonhart speaks in a stoic manner, but Theo can hear the tremors in his voice as well.

He sits in a chair in the hall and rubs his eyes. He has been a commander for over 20 years now. How many Eldians has he sent to certain death without batting an eye? He really thought he had made peace with the state of the world. So much so that he gladly took up the position as head of the Warrior unit when no one else would. He thought them soft back then, incapable of following through with their duty just because it would entail using devil children instead of adults. You cannot allow yourself to ascribe humanity to only a certain portion of the race, lest the whole system fall apart. Years later, he still knows it to be true. But working with these kids closely, watching them grow into teenagers and then adults, it was impossible not to see first-hand how despicable the mentality is. And getting your own hands dirty is very different from being a mere observer, as he has come to realise. Events from years ago still echo in his head. Seeing those four off to the island, the two years of silence, their distress upon returning. He couldn’t care less about the loss of the Jaw titan, but he had to let Marcel’s parents know their son was dead. When Reiner Braun stood in front of him and insisted that he alone receive the blame and punishment for the failed Paradis mission, Theo thought it merciful to comply. What was he to do? He knows it wasn’t mercy or sacrifice, nor punishment. Nothing else but a dead child. He was relieved when Porco initially refused the opened-up spot, only to change his mind after speaking to Reiner. He managed to convince Calvi then not to immediately re-launch the mission, but to at least wait a few years. They ended up giving up on it eventually, opting instead to focus on conquering the neighbouring countries first. They would eventually gather enough resources to launch an attack on Paradis and gain access to all its fossil fuels. The titans were still a great help in war, but it was becoming evident with the rapid advancement of technology that they would soon become obsolete. And then what? According to Calvi, who gives a shit? Leave them to die, kill off the Eldians in the internment zones and be done with it. Years ago, he wouldn’t have batted an eye, accepting it as the inevitable truth. Now he is equally helpless, but with a great deal of grief and guilt racking his mind. How could he have allowed himself to get this attached? Why bother trying to salvage the remains? These kids are more than halfway through their terms now.  _ His _ kids, the ones whose fates he personally set in stone.

He would often consider himself as hollow as the Helos statue in the square. Truth is, he merely wishes he could be. 

After what could be minutes or hours, someone gently rouses him from a nap he didn’t realise he was taking. A particularly kind nurse lets him know that Pieck is awake, prompting him to follow her through a set of narrow halls. The room’s temperature is a couple degrees higher, the reason obvious. If the few soldiers who are also confined to it are bothered by the steam, they certainly don’t have the strength to express so. They’re in the back, a few cots apart. The first thing he takes notice of is how painfully thin they both are, and they were already small-boned, with Pieck struggling for the last few years to put on weight. He can see why the medics wouldn’t want to bother, but that wasn’t a path he was willing to go down. He assured them he’s seen shifters recover from much worse.

Annie is still knocked out, courtesy of the doctors. He’s been told she did wake up once, just for long enough to break a man’s nose, after which the staff felt compelled to put back under for everyone’s safety. It’s for the best. She needs the rest and this way she at least isn’t in that much pain. He’ll talk with her some other time. 

Pieck lies on her side, as still as a mouse, and he thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep again, but she fixes her tired eyes on him as he takes a seat next to the bed. Her remaining arm and face are still covered in cuts and dark bruises, and he is aware there is a lot more which he cannot see. He knows they will heal, Pieck just has her priorities figured out. Regardless, it hurts to look at. 

“I am sorry this has happened, on account of my reckless orders,” he says finally. “We stormed several bases, but didn’t know where they were keeping you.”

Pieck’s eyes are half-closed in that familiar way that makes her appear asleep, and she’s not quite lucid because he personally made sure they’d be on some strong painkillers for the time being, but he knows she is listening. She moves her head slightly upwards to affirm that. 

“Do you remember the location?”

She nods.

“Good. We’ll make sure they pay.” 

At this point he and Pieck proceed to have a quick exchange using purely their eyebrows, which ends with Theo pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a deep breath. He’s not in any shape to be making decisions, drastic or otherwise. He’s simply too furious with himself for letting something like this happen in the first place, overlooking an obvious trap that nearly cost them two titans. He would gladly have the Colossal wipe the place off the map; it’s not like it would be the first time. He figures that as long as there is anger, there will be war. And there is always plenty of anger to go around.

“Commander,” Pieck croaks. Her throat must be killing her, but he can’t even offer her a glass. He leans in to hear her better. “We didn’t tell them anything.”

It makes sense, in retrospect, why they kept them alive – they’re desperate for information. There are many things he wants to say, but can’t. In the end, he manages a  _ well done _ .

“We were near Sidda,” she continues. “I heard them mention Ovvia and Geerem. There might be more.”

“You think the west coast has been taken over?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a swear and calls a soldier over to take the news to Calvi. They’ve been so preoccupied with the war up north, who knows how many of their bases have been invaded in the meantime. Marley is crumbling and the world knows it.

Pieck lifts her head a slightly. “Is Annie okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” he says, glancing back. 

“For a minute, back there,” Pieck says quietly, “I thought she was dead. And I knew they wouldn’t kill us, but she was hurt so badly and it really looked like-” She shuts her eyes, letting some tears fall. “I had to wait until I knew I had enough strength to run, but that might have been too late. I couldn’t- I saw her stir later, but I didn’t know if I would be fast enough. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

A shifter coming into possession of more than one titan is not something Marley would approve of, since it is unpredictable and cuts resources, but the kids are still taught that, in a last-ditch effort, it is preferable to potentially letting the power fall to someone on Paradis. That’s the interpretation he will choose to acknowledge. The truth behind her faltering, which he is certain would not be this easy to discern if not for the analgesic-induced delirium, he will overlook in good will, as he did for himself. 

“You did well,” he says, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I trust you to assess a situation, know your capabilities and make the right decision, better than anyone. That’s why we chose you, remember.”

She keeps her eyes closed, pressing her face further into the pillow so her next words are muffled. “I’m sorry. It’s all become too personal.”

Theo says nothing else, just sits by Pieck’s side for a while and contemplates those words.

* * *

Annie lies still, blinking, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Still in the dark, but not there anymore, wherever that was, but in a bed that's not her own. She’s exhausted, her head hurts, and she cannot will herself to go back to sleep. Her heart is racing, the sheets feel suffocating, it’s too quiet, and she is alone. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t want to be. She has to clutch the bed frame for support, but she’s just glad she’s able to stand on her legs again. She knows she will regret it later when the pain kicks in, but the sight of needles and tubes makes her skin crawl, so she hastily rips the IV from her arm. 

She spots Pieck a few cots down, she knows it’s her because there’s steam, and makes her way there, teeth clenched. Pieck looks worse than Annie feels – she can actually see her a bit better now than in that pitch black cell, and it hurts terribly, but she’s awake too, tired eyes fixed upwards. She mouths Annie’s name, too soft to hear. Without hesitation, she climbs into the bed beside her, Pieck lifting the cover to wrap it, along with her arm, around Annie. Pieck doesn’t cry often, at least not in public. Somehow, even in the face of despair, she manages to keep a cool head, set her emotions aside. It’s something they have in common, though for different reasons. And one can only grit their teeth for so long before something cracks. There, in the dark, Annie presses herself close to Pieck and lets herself break down. 

* * *

It takes them some time to adjust to the change in environment, for their minds to catch up. They make sure to keep themselves put-together when interacting with people – no freezing up, no flinching – knowing well that their position as Warriors is on the line. They have no choice but to keep going. Pieck cuts her hair shoulder length again after it gets caught on a button of her uniform. She doesn’t show any reaction at the time, but standing next to her, one could hear her breath hitch for a moment. Annie, who has been prone to keeping certain scars as little reminders of all the times she didn’t die, makes sure to heal every last one, no matter how recent. It leaves her skin looking spotless, but it doesn’t calm her nerves. She can still feel a dull pain pulsing where it was marred. It’s somewhat demeaning and frustrating to both, just how shaken this incident has left them, considering everything they’ve been through over the years.

After two sleepless nights at home, they find themselves back in their old room at the barracks. They develop this routine where, in the middle of the night, when the thoughts get too unbearable, one of them makes the decision to slip out of her bed and join the other, who graciously pretends to be asleep and not notice. At one point, without having to discuss it, they stop bothering trying to sleep in separate beds. They’re both small enough to easily fit on one mattress, especially if they’ve got their arms wrapped around each other.

It’s on one of those nights, after Annie has been gently roused from a bad dream, that they decide to drop the act completely. Pieck, woken up by either the quickened heartbeat or the murmurs, draws little circles on her back until her breathing slows down to a normal pace, at which point they lie awake for a while in silence. Finally, Pieck lets out a long breath that entails some thoughts to follow and Annie lifts her head from where it’s pressed against Pieck’s collarbone to see her face. 

“Nine years ago,” she starts slowly, voice as soft as a breeze. “I gave myself up to Marley, completely at peace with dying and with no aspirations beyond completing my term.” She moves a strand of hair from Annie’s face, rests her hand on the crook of her neck. “And now I suddenly have everything to lose.”

It’s hardly a revelation. Over the past years, Annie has found herself falling in love as casually and naturally as she breathed, so much so that she hasn’t bothered to question it. She knows Pieck feels the same; she doesn’t know when it started, doesn’t think it matters. They’ve both been privy to these feeling for a while now, never daring to take them further than mere suggestion in the form of lingering glances, small favours, a clasp of hands on a day cold enough to justify it. To do anything more would only result in meaningless pain, for they were both already dead the moment they inherited the titans. 

What’s the point, then, of living at all if you’re fated to die one day? What’s the point of loving someone if you’re bound to lose them? To not get attached is to not get hurt. Annie’s been hurting for a long time. Sheltered by the darkness, she lets a version of herself come undone. A hitched breath escapes her, the words c _ an I kiss you, _ barely above a whisper, and Pieck’s response doesn’t warrant a whisper at all as she leans in to gently press her lips to Annie’s. 

All the thoughts that should by all means be present, such as  _ Is this right? _ or  _ What if someone finds out? _ are nowhere to be found, completely trivial at this point in time. Annie has no regard for the pain that was and that will be. All that is at the moment is the warmth that spreads through her chest like a snowflake awaiting springtime.


End file.
